Porphyria's Lover's Cell
by koreantrash101
Summary: Stein wants to sink his fingers into her skin, wants to watch her face contort between pleasure and pain as he bites down on the flesh of her thigh; he wants to tear her apart and put her back together, wants to see and taste her insides for himself. She drives him mad … and he loves it. Rated M for many reasons. *VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED* Trinity Contest! Oneshot


**Author's Note: DO NOT READ THIS UNLESS YOU ENJOY BRUTAL CONTENT! tHIS STORY IS SICK AND GRUESOME AND I HONESTLY DON'T KNOW WHERE IT CAME FROM. I am not kidding when I say that this story is disturbing. I think it's an interesting story, but I warn you, there is no fluff and stuff. This is all gory, gross, and will most likely make you uncomfortable. If you dare read it, please be honest and let me know what you think. I am prepared for negative reviews.**

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He likes insides; the intestines and nerves and tissues and muscles - he shivers - they drive him up the wall. He has devoted himself to the human body and how it functions, how it keeps people alive. His main priority, however, is that of the brain. He wants to know what makes people tick, what makes everyone think and act differently; he wants to pull brains apart and put them back together to see if people come out the same after having had their cerebrum forced into a straight line and wrapped back into its original shape. Though it might take him a while to cut it into a string and sew it back together, it would be like finally hitting a climax for him, every nerve in his body tingling at the sensation of handling such an important part of the human anatomy in his hands - better yet, someone's life.

He's giddy as he pokes and prods at his test rat; watches as it squirms to free itself, its shrieks of agony music to his ears as he slowly cuts a leg off with his scalpel. He feels his heart race slightly as his eyes observe the tearing of flesh, blood gushing from the poor creature. He finally reaches the bone and drags his knife down the side, scraping away any remaining muscle with a sickening sigh of metal against bone. His gloves are covered in red and his breathing is ragged, but he stops, for the creature is no longer squirming, no longer screaming in its own tongue for mercy. Its heart has stopped without his say so. He leans back with a huff, defeated once again. The vermin had died in the middle, he hadn't even gotten to the fun part. He reaches up, grabbing hold of his large screw and twisting it, a prickling clatter like rusty nails crawling across glass filling the silence.

"Another rough day at the office?" He smirks as he slides off the silicon covering his hands to swivel her way. He finds her on his operating table, legs crossed as she smiles wickedly in his direction, her arms on either side of her as they brace the edge of the metal table.

_She _makes a perfect test subject.

He believes it to be her smile, the one she uses when no one else is around; the one she uses when she is truly being herself. Yes, it may have been her smile that caught his eye, that piqued his transfixion. It is homogeneous to his, he sees similarities in the way their teeth grind; in the sincere sinister of white dentine. He finds her smile … comforting, calming; it is a fact that he is not the only one; it's proof that he isn't alone. He shows very little of himself and yet she knows him so well, knows how to penetrate and control him with those malicious eyes of hers. Perhaps that was what it was, her eyes … But no, that wasn't it. The shine of pale that passes her lips in that snake-like manner, the curvature of her simple, thin pink flesh as she simpers. Yes, it most definitely was her smile, much like his and refreshingly ominous. He just wants to lay her down - _chain_ her down - making her unable to move as he pries her open; as he dissects her limb by limb, tooth by tooth. But then what if she becomes a different person? What if when he revives her, she isn't like him anymore? Then he would have ruined whatever they have between them, this understanding and sort of strange kinship.

"I suppose you could put it that way." He wraps up the remains of his useless test subject and tidies up, wiping blood splatter from surfaces, including his own grey skin. "What brings you here, Medusa?"

"What? Is a nurse not allowed to visit the morgue?"

"You know full well that this is my office, the morgue is three doors down the hall." He takes out a cigarette, putting it in his mouth as he reaches for a match. She watches him, smile still pretty and perfectly grotesque, and he allows himself a moment to meet her vicious, bloodthirsty eyes as fire burns the end of rolled tobacco. He has to force himself to look away, however; if he stares too long he might end up actually cutting her open, might overindulge and taste the crispness of her ripe blood as it spills from her stomach to pool down and around her torso.

"Alright, you caught me. Is it a crime that I want to see _you_?" He sucks in and blows, smoke filling the space between them as he sits back down in his chair.

"Not a crime, though … it might lead to one." He leans back and turns his head to look at her once more to find that she seems severely delighted by the prospect.

"Colour me intrigued."

"Would red suit your taste?"

"I've heard it's not as sweet as I had imagined, but I wouldn't mind a bit of iron." He pushes off of the floor, his chair rolling over to her to stop just close enough so that his hand can graze her knee.

"That can be arranged." His eyes lower meticulously down her body to land on the act of his hand's slow caress. His heart begins to speed up slightly as he allows a nail to pierce her perfect skin, the smallest drop of blood budding to the surface. She doesn't even flinch as he leans in, his hot breath just over the cut, and lets his tongue slide out to leisurely drag across the small wound. His dull green eyes look back up at her lazily, his taste buds reveling in the deliciousness of her life source spreading across his salivated fleshy oral organ.

"How's the taste?" Stein stands, looming over her petite form at his full 6'4.

"Like the sweetest iron." He takes her by surprise, his hands forcing her down to lay flat on her back. It's maddening how enticing she looks, her eyes wide as he quickly and thoroughly straps her down. "I have a feeling your insides will taste even sweeter." He turns for only a moment, a brief look away to grab his surgical equipment - he's been waiting for what feels like forever to do this; the excitement of finally cutting her open and seeing for himself what she's made of has his hands trembling - and when he turns back, she's smiling at him.

"Don't do it too awfully quick, I want to feel the knife sliding in, I want to know what being cut open feels like, I want to savour it." He smiles back at her, eyes crazed and teeth menacing as he steps closer. It most definitely is her smile.

"Your wish is my command." She's perfect. He grabs his scissors and cuts open her dress from bottom to top to find that she isn't wearing undergarments. His hands press their way up her body, gliding along unblemished flesh from her feet to her face, and he's never felt more alive; never felt such inner peace as he reaches for his scalpel. How marvelous it will be to watch this unmarred skin cut and sewn; to pull out and examine each muscle and tendon while she lays awake on his cold, metal table. His eyes become fascinated with her bosom; the way her nipples harden upon meeting the chill of the air, how her breathing lifts them up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down … it's all just fat, but what lovely fat it is. He reaches forward and grabs a small mound, plays with the peak with his thumb, and she trembles. His pants tighten at the sight of her, tied down and willing to be torn apart - _God_, does it turn him on. He's rough with her as he pulls back and slaps her thigh, the clapping and her startled gasp have him chuckling like the lunatic that he is. He slaps again, harder, again, harder, again, _harder_, until her thigh is bright red and he leans down to suck on her lower stomach, his teeth nibbling greedily. She moans and his left hand finds and covers her mouth, making her silent cries muffled and _music to his ears_. His right hand now holds the knife, and he grazes its tip down her abused thigh, watching as she stiffens under his grasp, shaking slightly from the sting. Her blood is the purest cherry colour and he wants more, he wants to drain her of it, bathe himself in it, he wants it all. His mouth moves downward, as does the blade, and he finds her clit with his tongue. He sucks and she jumps and his tool finds its way slowly between the meniscus and the articular cartilage to slide just behind the patella. Her screams are so _sweet_ and he doesn't care whether she's crying because of the pain or the pleasure, but her back is arched and her head is as far back as her restraints allow.

"More, Stein! Deeper!" Her leg is quivering against his wrist and he sucks hard, _hard_ on her folds, the juices from her pleasure trickling out to lather his tongue, and he slowly pulls the knife out of her, making her whimper. She has forgotten that he is in charge here; she has given her body to him to do with as he pleases, and he pleases to keep her intact enough to mend back together. If he had plunged any deeper, he would have ripped a tendon, and he couldn't have that, not when there were so many more operations he wanted to carry out. His hand makes its way to her other knee, blood dripping off of the appendage from the first incision, and he lines it up just right before stabbing into her again in the same way. Her shriek is glorious and his left hand grabs her throat to feel the vibration and struggle as the muscles tense and strain against his fingers. This is all better than he could have ever imagined; her willingness and eagerness to let him carry out such a fantasy with a smile on her face as she shakes in painful ecstasy. She's enjoying being cut open and brutally sucked on and she wants _more_.

"Now, now, no need to rush. You requested I do this slowly. You said you wanted to _feel_ it. What kind of man would I be if I ignored such want?" He leaves her side as he goes to grab his needles; thick and cool rods to aid in the slow torture. "Just relax, feel the ache, enjoy." He takes one of the rods and slowly plunges it into the open hole in her left knee, making her jolt in pain. Stein makes his way to the knife still buried in her right knee, pulling it out and replacing it with another rod and, again, she cries out, her body thumping back against the table. It is a sight to behold, one that makes him feel lighter, almost as if he's on some kind of high. And this is only the beginning.

He decides to move down to her feet, bringing thin, small metal needles along with him. The nerves in toes and fingers are very sensitive, mostly because there are more nerves in the ends of fingers and toes. The nerve endings underneath the nails are protected and not subject to stimulation like other areas of the body. He'd like to see her reaction to such torture. He's always wondered if it felt similar to how people described having sexual intercourse for the first time, especially females. Is it really as painful as he had heard or were they over exaggerating? Well, she could tell him.

He takes one needle, aims just under her toenail, sliding it in slowly to observe her as it grazes bone. She's screaming, body lifting up off of the table, being held down by every tied appendage as her back arches. She's shaking and there are the beginnings of tears at her eyes. These are screams he's heard before, in his fantasies where he was doing just this, and they sound beautiful. He basks in her every quiver and spasm, every jolt and writhe, it's like he's painting the most atrociously captivating pictures with every drop of her blood, every painful screech. He wants this piece in his bedroom.

It's time for the next needle to be inserted and her yells and cries are as glorious as the last, perhaps even more so. He's read of the different phases of sexual responses, but he's never experienced them before; from his research, he thinks that he is still in the initial excitement phase, and as much as he used to think it a waste of time, he can now physically agree to every argument previously made against him. He can feel his skin begin to flush as it spreads up his chest and neck, a light sheen of sweat beginning to surface in his arousal.

He can see her blood rising to the surface as her flesh is becoming pinkish, heat radiating off of her from her rising fever and he's glad to see that they're on the same track. He goes and brings back cold compresses, laying them over her skin in preparation to make her his. That's a whole new sensation for her and he must take note of her reaction, pulling out his pad and pen to actually jot it down for future reference. He then goes back to her toes, piercing the flesh just under her nails, making her loud and violent again and again. He may or may not be enjoying this too much, his smile wide and white, his eyes crazed with delight. He's enjoying this so much in fact, that he wants to get onto the good part, where he takes a knife to her stomach and makes a large incision from the bottom of her breasts, straight down just shy of her clit. He wants to open her up and finally pull everything out, one by one, to be hung up and examined. He'll cut deep, but not deep enough to harm anything except for her skin. He might be jumping the gun, but he has never been anything if not unorthodox.

"We're going to skip a few steps, I'm afraid." He's like a child in a candy store, or so he's heard. He's never been one for candy, it was always dead animals that had him pulling at his dad's pants as he pointed at barely breathing roadkill, begging him to let him take it home. Needless to say, he was also a very selfish and disobedient child. His childhood home backyard is full of dead critters that he delightedly pulled apart limb by limb during his adolescence.

"N-no, Stein, don't … please."

" … You've given your body to me, my dear, and I will do with it as I see fit." He takes ahold of one of his many scalpels off to the side, bringing it to rest splendidly against the skin of her lower abdomen where her stomach rises and falls with each shallow breath. "I won't apologize, because, well … I'm not sorry." He plunges the knife deep enough to separate skin, making her cry out in agonizing pain, her body jerking against the table, trembling as she begins to bleed out. He drags the blade from her left to her right as slowly as he can, enjoying every minute of it as he gazes down at her with crazed eyes. Once done, his subtle chuckle begins to escalate as he goes to rip a vertical line from high between her ribs down below her hips. Unlike the useless rats that he had wasted his precious time on before, she is still very much awake; very much alive, a smile still on her face despite the pain.

"Feels so … good," she moans, her blood-covered skin being peeled back at an excruciating pace by the nimble fingers of her captor. She's beginning drool at the mouth; her eyes begin to roll back into her head, so he twists the metal rod that's still lodged in her knee to keep her conscious.

"Am I boring you? Must I try harder to keep you interested, Ms. Medusa?" Words seem to be too hard for her to produce at the moment as she does nothing but convulse and shiver, the cold air making her feverish body feel like ice. He can't hold back any longer as he grabs ahold of her small intestine, loving the way it squishes between his fingers; the dampness from her blood against his hands makes a squelching sound that he adores. Stein feels himself get harder, his pants feeling tight against his groin. The sight of her, opened up with her own blood pooling around her thin body as her skin begins to turn grey has him so excited and he wants to take it to the next step. Removing his belt and undoing his pants, he releases her arms and legs from their restraint and spreads them as he carefully positions her near the edge of the table.

"Don't you dare fucking die," he demands before slowly pushing himself into her folds, making her arch her back in a gruesome way as her organs nearly begin to spill from her abdomen. His brutal hold on her sides seems to help keep them from protruding out too far, but he can see the strain on her face as a silent scream leaves her throat, her breath barely able to fill her lungs. He begins to tremble, the feeling of being inside her is too much. He could have never imagined this kind of intense pleasure, as he had never even been tempted to participate in sexual acts of any kind; the satisfaction he gets from killing innocent animals being the closest he's ever felt to this.

"M-move, p-_please_," she begs, attempting and failing to do so herself as he holds her bleeding body in his quivering hands, reveling in her disheveled, butchered state. He begins to roll his hips and he feels his lower abdomen start to coil, her moans and grunts of pleasure not quite exciting him as thoroughly as the moments prior. He allows his thumbs to sink into her open flesh and she screams as he scratches at muscle, stretching it as he rams deep into her.

"That's more like it." He can feel himself hardening again as tears surface to her eyes. He can't leave her be for even a second if he wants to fully experience what a true orgasm is. He shifts slightly, his right-hand goes to sink his fingers into her breast, digging in so deep that she begins to bleed there as well. He refuses to stop pounding into her as bites down barbarically on her other mound, his teeth piercing her skin to the point that it's nearly detached from her body. He had originally meant to go about this more surgically, but he can fix her; he can mend her back together despite the mess he makes. He has faith in himself and he knows that she does as well. Why else would she allow him to tear her to shreds as he is, letting him take full advantage of her yearning for him? He'll allow himself to lose control … just this once.

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(This section has been removed from the fanfiction post because it holds too vivid of details of a disturbing sex scene. For your comfort, I have skipped ahead to the end. For those who are curious, Stein basically rips her apart while having _mutual_ intercourse with her. Yes, she wants this, as not okay as that is.)

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She's stopped moving, stopped breathing, and he doesn't feel a sliver of regret. He's covered in her blood, reveling in the sound of it dripping off of him, off of the table onto the concrete floor. His pupils are dilated and he has never felt more alive than in this moment. He understands why she is the way she is and why he loves her.

"We're going to have so much fun putting you back together," he says, breathless as his hand caresses her now ruined skin, blood so thick and flesh bare that she is now unrecognizable to everyone but him; he knows her inside and out. He finds himself leaning in to press his lips to hers ...

He blinks, scalpel in his hand as he observes the squirming rat tied down on his metal desk. He feels like he's been here before, with this same rat, making the same incisions, scraping muscle and tissue from a small bone before the creature goes silent. He leans back in his chair, his hand reaching up to turn at his screw. Something doesn't feel right and he might need some adjusting; he thinks that maybe reevaluating his neck or tinkering with his brain outside of just adjusting his screw might help. He sighs as he removes his silicon gloves and throws them in the trash.

She watches from the corner, her eyes being seen first as they glow in the darkness of the room. She chuckles internally. He doesn't even know that he's under a spell or that she placed said spell upon him. What a sad ending for such a brilliant mind. Medusa begins to step forward quietly and places herself upon the metal operating table as she always does. She smiles at the back of his head as he scratches his scalp and goes about ridding himself of the failed test subject. He is so brilliant, yet so simple; giving him just a small taste of what he wants every day leads him off of the scent of his hypnosis. Sometimes she thinks that he already knows; that he doesn't care to remove himself from such a wonderful hostage situation. He enjoys this far too much to leave her anyway ...

"Another rough day at the office?" - and so does she.

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**I told you it was disturbing ... **

**Don't worry, feel-good stories are on their way.**

**Much Love~!**

**K.T.**


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